Nocte Yin: Anti-Villain, Anti-Hero and Anti-Everything Else

Part Two: Anti-Hero - Chapter Thirty-Three

Nocte stood before an ocean, a sky and a wide beachfront. She silently watched as the waters seemed to pull the blue from the sky and push it onto the sand in large sweeping waves, over her toes and past her ankles. There were cliffs to her right, jutting out and over the waters, breaking up the picturesque blue sky and the whites of cumulous clouds. To her left, there were the beginnings of a forest, a tree line that seared toward, behind and past her in a zigzagged formation. Above her stood a blazing sun, beaming heat and fire upon her crown of long, tangled and blood-matted hair. She squinted at the magnified pinpricks of light (her glasses had been broken and lost some days ago) as a rush of wind flew up against her, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed, a fresh and delicious spray along her perfect rows of teeth; her retainer was in the drawer of her dorm… or so she hoped.

She wore a downtrodden coat, a thick parka that had thinned considerably in the past hour or so. It had rips and tears along the sides, back and sleeves—gouged in the stomach with the stuffing pouring out. Her mangled snow pants were in the same pitiful state, a whole leg unravelling from the seams. She had lost her scarf a long time ago, pulled and torn from her throat. Her gloves were mere scraps, pieces of fabric held together with brittle threads and frozen to the wounds on her palms, along her knuckles and between her fingers. The only (relatively) presentable article of clothing on her person were her boots, scuffed and scratched, but not incredibly worse for wear—a testament of the quality (and expense) of the wares.

A seagull crowed and a bee buzzed by; water sprayed into her face and drowned the world out.

An Ice Sword slipped seamlessly into her right palm and she spun to place the blade under the stranger’s chin.

The stranger did not move, did not blink; Nocte’s lower left side ached at her movement, but did not protest overly much.

She was getting hot in this balmy weather, swathed in her arctic gear. There was no snow or ice or cold to be had, not the winter she had walked and fought in. She did not understand how she had arrived in this place, with waters so familiar, land so familiar and air so familiar. And this stranger, this elderly man, so familiar, did not seem to be in a hurry to provide sufficient answers.

Nocte was calm, but she was beginning to feel the prickling of irritation.

She never did like the summer.

“Lady Necromancer,” the elder acknowledged.

He knew her, but that did not make the situation less abrasive, nor did it lift her sword from his throat.

“I do not know who you are,” she said. Her throat was scratchy after moving from the extreme cold to the extreme heat; a drop of sweat melted into the collar of her parka. It was both uncomfortable and loathsome.

Her hand nearly jerked with annoyance, nearly shaved the man’s long, white beard from his chin.

“I am Ān Guó,” the elder said.

She knew the name. It was neither a common nor uncommon name, but it was a name many have heard of and recognized, spoken respectfully among the higher echelons of society and taught in all the schools. She looked him over carefully, at his long white hair half drawn into a top knot, and then to his faded blue Xonese robes with the navy blue button knots. Her eyes then fell to the jade pendant at his belt, a green so deep and exquisite that she found herself lingering a little longer. It was priceless—so was the character etched on the precious stone.

“You are the Xonese Councillor of the Erisiren Council,” she stated.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I do not believe you.” She had lost herself in illusions before.

“Sōng shù.”

She stared at him—hard. He was difficult to read; his age and experience proved a capable mask. With his eyes wrinkled shut, his hair thin and white, and his eyebrows long and trailing, nothing gave him away. He was like one of those Xonese sages from the legends, just as soundless and indecipherable. Slowly, she lowered the Ice sword, but did not dissipate it. Slowly, she stepped back, but did not turn her eyes from him. There were still many questions left unanswered.